


In the Moment

by WordOfALanyon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordOfALanyon/pseuds/WordOfALanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard for someone like Mycroft to let go...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Moment

It has been a trying day and Mycroft has not managed to switch off in the slightest on his short trip home, chewing over the day’s old meat and feeling the beginnings of a forming headache. It’s been building for days, last night he was downright off-hand with Greg, remembering this just makes his mood worse. It all changes when he walks in and sees it, hooked over the newel post. Just the sight of it starts the process of letting everything go.

Mycroft knows that he could ignore it. Greg wouldn’t hold it against him and if he had to be alert for work this evening he would ignore it but delightfully this is an evening when he both wants to and can let it all go. The rules are simple; if he wants the collar then he has to be a good boy.

First he carefully closes the door behind him and puts his umbrella in the stand at the door and then he begins to undress. His tie is removed first and the day’s creases smoothed from it before it is folded and placed neatly on the small table. Next he crouches to properly untie his laces. Briefly he remembers the time he just kicked his shoes off, Greg had noticed of course, he noticed everything in this scenario. The chastisement had been fair but Mycroft did not want Greg to think that he hadn’t learned from his mistakes. The socks are removed and folded, placed inside the shoes.

Already Mycroft can feel himself drifting into a different state of mind as he takes off and hangs his jacket and begins to unbutton his shirt. He is hard, rock hard, but he knows it in an intellectual way, some part of his mind can feel his arousal but it is a distant thing, a thing out of his control, a thing like all others that for this evening Greg controls.

He takes time smoothing and hanging up his shirt, once he would have argued, it would be going to be laundered after all but Greg insists that such things are important.

The cool air of the hallway further hardens his nipples as he begins to unfasten his trousers before slipping them down his thighs and over his bare feet. The trousers are something that Greg is very particular about indeed. It had been a good afternoon when he’d made Mycroft learn the correct way to fold them in order to please him. When he’d finally achieved perfection the orgasm that Greg allowed him had been spectacular.

Now all that are left are Mycroft’s underpants and he has to pull them over his erection to take them off. He does not touch himself but he does fold the pants, taking care that the damp spot on them is visible; Greg likes to see evidence of his arousal.

The next bit is one of the things that Mycroft enjoys the most. He checks once more that everything is as it should be, after all he wants Greg to let him wear his collar. He takes a moment to stare at it, loosely done up, hanging there, the leather, he knows soft and supple, it’s size just right, tight enough that he can never forget that he is wearing it, slack enough that Greg can wind his fingers into it, suspending even Mycroft’s breathing at his whim. When he has looked his fill and checked one more time that all is as it should be Mycroft drops to his knees, shuffling around until he faces the front door. He sits back on his heels, keeping his back straight and his hand on his thighs. The first couple of times they played out this scene he’d felt exposed, when Greg opened the door anyone walking past would see him here like this. Now, however it was an important part of the whole thing; yet another marker of trust.

Time moved strangely when he was in this state. He could have thought about it, he could have recalled the reading he had done, but either of those things would have defeated the object. Instead he found himself watching the flecks of dust in the slanting afternoon sunlight, watching without thought, waiting without an awareness of time, at peace.

He didn’t even look up when Greg came in, his place was just to wait, the sounds of Greg hanging up his coat and the rest were intercepted by his ears but did not pass through his brain, he heard nothing until Greg spoke,

“Hello, love.”

Mycroft looked up into Greg’s warm, brown eyes, he didn’t insist on downcast eyes, far from it, but did not speak.

Greg made a show of examining the way that Mycroft had left his clothes and how he was arranged before again looking him straight in the eyes.

“That’s just perfect. You’re perfect.”

Mycroft smiled ever so slightly but he was holding his breath, waiting for what Greg would say next,

“I think you deserve your collar tonight,”

“Thank you,” Mycroft breathed as Greg reached for the supple leather, unbuckling it and reaching behind Mycroft’s neck to put it in place before fastening it snuggly.

“You look fantastic like this, do you know?”

“Thank you.”

“But I think you want more?”

Mycroft blushed slightly but embarrassed as he was by wanting anything more than he was given, he had to nod,

“You know the rules,” Greg chided gently, slipping his fingers between Mycroft’s collar and his throat, “use your words,”

Mycroft looked up, his entire world and consciousness wrapped up in those dark brown eyes,

“I want your cock, please,”

“Well, since you’ve been so good and asked so nicely,”

And Mycroft closed his eyes and opened his mouth, for once perfectly in the moment.


End file.
